


Three

by deducemedetective



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, bisexual genji, mention of emotional/physical abuse, this is so gay and cheesy but i don't care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 04:37:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8735146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deducemedetective/pseuds/deducemedetective
Summary: It's said that we fall in love only three times in our life, and that there is a different reason for each person. Genji recalls his Three.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a cheesy article I found on facebook, of all things.

The first fall is always the most exciting. Butterflies flutter in the stomach, the heart soars, the mind whirls. You don't quite understand the concept of love yet, but with your overwhelming emotions you just assure yourself that this _must_ be what everyone was talking about, this _must_ be love, and it's amazing. You're in love with being in love, and you ignore the parts of it that don't seem quite right.

It was a girl you met in school. She was smart, witty, beautiful. And rich. You were starstruck. Father approved. Even Hanzo, despite his teasing, approved. The young Shimada boy had finally gotten himself a girlfriend, and your marriage would have been the joining of two of Japan's most powerful families. Her smile brought light into any room she entered, and the gentle warmth of her hand in yours was enough to halt your shivers on the coldest of nights. Even though she voiced so many plans of the future that you disagreed with, you told yourself that it was supposed to be this way, that she was the one you were meant to spend the rest of your life with.

But it wasn't meant to be. You grew older, bolder, rebellious. Began speaking out against Father's ideas that you found foolish, began neglecting your duties. They blamed it on the girl. She's a troublesome harlot, they said. And you were forbidden from seeing her again. From time to time, you still remember her soft embrace, and you wonder if she found someone to bring her as much happiness as she brought you.

 

The second was a broken record that kept repeating itself. It was a low point in your life and you looked for anything to distract you from your slow realization that your family had begun to hate you, and that it was your fault. It didn't matter what punishments were given anymore; nothing short of locking you in your room could have stopped you from sneaking out into the city all those nights. The butterflies with torn wings flutter again, the heart hesitantly takes flight once more, even though the mind questions if _this_ is the real love that you've been waiting for. You won't so foolishly step into the fairy tale of before that was taken away from you.

It was a man you met at a club. A boy, really; you were both still mere teenagers, but you both thought you were worthy of being considered men. It was this attitude that sparked between you two, that coaxed you into going from eyeing each other across the dance floor to moving closer, closer and fitting together like two reject puzzle pieces. His mouth on yours was fire, and the marks he left on you were worn proudly even though they were a slap to Father and Hanzo's faces. You reveled in this love because it fed the angry dragon coiled in your chest that flared in fury whenever you thought of home. And he reveled in you because you fed his ego with your desperation for acceptance. He kept you on a string tied around his finger, dragging you back to him time and time again when you started realizing that his words were empty, copied and pasted and filling in the blanks with your name instead of countless others that he'd used, just like you.

You decided that it wasn't meant to be. The first time he left a mark on you without your permission was also the first time he spent the night in the back alley of the club, unconscious on the cold asphalt, with a broken nose. Now and again, you remember his alluring gaze and silver tongue, and you hope that he never succeeds in manipulating anyone ever again.

 

The third was not sudden, but it still somehow swept you off your feet and took you by complete surprise. You were a new man, quite literally, more than half machine. You warred with yourself, building a wall around your heart. Perhaps it was because of this that you didn't even realize your love, at first. The butterflies' flutters stagnate, the heart beats mechanically, the mind works at convincing yourself that love is not meant for a thing like you. An abomination, a disgrace, a tragedy.

It was a man whose purpose was to save lives by giving you orders. Shining blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a bright smile that was contagious. The poster boy for Overwatch. A remarkable soldier on the battlefield, and an unforgettable human being. You don't even realize that you let yourself get close because everything about being in his presence feels _right_. When he looks at you, you don't see the usual reflection of pity. He makes you smile and laugh, even when you feel like recoiling and crying. And when you _do_ give in, when you do lose control of your carefully constructed barrier, he lets you. He doesn't yell or scold or lecture about weakness. While your eyes burn and your lungs demand more air than you can breathe, he stays. He stays, with his arms around you and his soft, soothing voice in your ear telling you that it's okay, it's okay to feel broken and it's okay to cry. And with your fingers clinging to the fabric of his shirt you claw your way out of your pit of panic, and you find yourself wondering if this is all some cruel joke because he _stays_. 

The news of the explosion hits you like a hypertrain. You tell yourself you should have been there, you should have been with him to help him, to _save_ him like he saved you too many times to count. You don't think you ever truly believe that he's dead, be it wishful thinking or pure denial. As you scream in anguish and curse whatever god willed this to happen, you realize what you never acknowledged before. Emotions you held back, words you swallowed, gestures you suppressed. All the things you wish you would have told him, and now you would never get the chance.

Years pass, and a miracle walks into the Overwatch headquarters. A new name. An old face. But, against all odds, it's _him_.

You don't care if it's not meant to be. To hell with fate, to hell with whatever concept of love you'd blindly followed before. When he holds you for the first time in years, you feel stronger than you ever have. You can move mountains, you can tame seas. You can survive.

It is said that one falls in love three time in their life. But, after everything... You know that you have only truly loved once.

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out a little more angsty than I originally intended, but OH WELL. I love my gay ninja and soldier dad. [Here](http://www.elephantjournal.com/2016/11/we-only-fall-in-love-with-3-people-in-our-lifetime-each-one-for-a-specific-reason/) is a link to the article that inspired this. Definitely clickbait, but I thought it would be cute.


End file.
